Monsters Of Women
by Ms. Shapes
Summary: A women who seems to hold the most confidence on earth falls victim to a man with a large ego, and a career so large it threatens to drown them both. Can Dane Preston hold fast to her own rules, or will Aubrey Drake Graham have her pulled under by the lies and deceit that make up his own? Drake.


**Readers,**

I'm sorry I haven't written in so long, I kinda lost my urge to get thoughts down out of my head and have been insanely swamped with life.

This story, is a bit of a side thing, and it's going to be a bit darker than my other story so be prepared for the change of characters.

Now if you didn't already know by the summary, this story is about Aubrey Drake Graham, who most of you might know simply as Drake.

Yes , I know . What the hell? I'm going from Ville Valo, to stupid dopey Drake?

The reason behind this story, is I was reading up on this man, and some of his thoughts and epitaphs, and was really intrigued.

So bear with me, and I promise you shall enjoy it.

So with no more annoying message from me, here is a small taste of what is yet to come.

-**HG**

* * *

Dane Preston had never, ever felt the need to go to any type of night club. Nothing of that entire scene had ever appealed to her, and in fact never would.

Who in their right mind thought that going into a dimly lit area with loud pulsing music which left you clambering to hear your own thoughts was something 'so fun' to do on a Saturday night? Not to mention the grimy men who couldn't wait to put their paws all over you, and the over-priced alcohol that would make you a stumbling mess in front of your so called friends.

Not a damn thing could make her want to sit in the very red pleather booth she sat in now, and watch as the few women she'd came with disappear into the mass of people on the dance floor.

Nope, she would never find herself with a jack and coke practically glued to her hand, wistfully watching as tipsy couples grinded against each other to a different beat that the one playing. Never mind the fact that she was finishing her third glass of said drink just that moment.

See, Dane Preston knew better.

Dane Preston was better than this.

But Dane Preston also held an incredibly large burden on her shoulders, and tonight had been especially hard to stand alone.

So with her thoughts biting and tearing at her conscience she'd lamely texted to the few women she could actually stand and had set up a night out. The night club not being her idea, (of course) had been the unanimous decision between the others and not having the will to put up a snit about it, Dane had begrudgingly agreed.

Her eye's felt incredibly heavy as she watched as one by one, the single women were plucked off by men who spotted them from distant corners. Some were beautiful, some were handsome, while others were skinny, others husky, but all held a similar look in their eyes. This pleading look for acceptance, for life, love, risk, adventure. Enchantment.

All looking for something, all hoping it'd be in the next person to pull them close.

Dane Preston had never had that look.

She was the woman you'd seen walking into your local café, and felt the small intake of breath in your chest. The lady whom made eye contact with you as she slid slowly into a waiting car making you wonder who she must be going to meet. Caught a glimpse of her walking into a shop, and she'd make you look back twice. In a store, you'd see her trying on a dress, and feel embarrassed for thinking of how much confidence she had. Dane Preston was that women that skinny females looked at in puzzlement, with thoughts of jealousy because this woman clearly wasn't a size six or even a size eight, yet looked beautiful. The one whom large women stared at wistfully as the poster child of body image, a lone exception to the stereotype of chiseled bodies or chunky ones. A difference between what was considered beautiful and what was not, she was the one who made all other question their true perception of beauty. Dane was THAT woman.

But most of all, Dane Preston was lonely, and being that women had never helped her with that.

A shrill sucking sound brought Dane back to the dim club scene, and made it very evident that the drink she'd been nursing had come to its end and she'd simply been sipping at nothing for the past few moments.

Glancing about for one of the very few roaming waiters, Dane reached a hand slowly up to push the long locks of shining hazel hair that had fallen forward to tickle her chest. The scoop neck camisole she wore left little not to be bothered by the bottom strands of her layered haircut, making her skin feel tight and itchy.

Yet she could never complain, as her long locks framed her face so perfectly. Against her sun kissed skin, and silver green eyes, full pouty lips, high cheek bones, and a flattened nose, her hair only drew you into a picture. A picture that changed with each person that looked upon it. Whatever you may be seeking, her picture could reflect it back unto you.

Glancing down at her mid-thigh shorts and blue blazer, Dane smiled within her mind at the sadness of the situation. Around her woman had caked on makeup, pulled on tight dresses and shirts, and done hair that had taken hours to arrange desperate for attention from anyone, while here she sat in her work clothes content with herself as she was.

Dane felt eyes heavy on her, and glanced up quickly to find a waiter that had been hovering around her small group all night. He had a charming smile, but his eyes were dead. He'd let go of true life long ago, and she had no time or patience to deal with another like him.

"Can I get you another darling?" The fake smile, that Dane was sure had captured a hundred young girls hearts, glittered at her from the man making her nod and offer a stiff tasteless smile in return.

"Yes, you could do that. Considering it's your job." The iciness behind her tone, sent that smile running as the man stood up in a huff and stalked away his pride wounded for the moment.

Dane was in no mood for charming men, she'd had her fill of that already.

Dane Preston was an odd thing in the world, considering its obsession with beauty and health. Dane was a plus size model. She had been signed when she was fifteen years old, and from then she'd been featured in spreads through-out the entire world. Dane had been from Paris to California to Bangkok because of her face.

The difference between the hundreds and thousands of women who shared her profession was that Dane had a confidence that had never led her to doubt her being, and her place.

Dane Preston had never lost her confidence.

Well, once.

With that daunting thought, like a whisper on the wind, or something else beyond human thought, reasoning, and hope, Dane's phone began to buzz inside her small green bag against her thigh.

In a fit of frenzy Dane grappled with the bag, putting up a battle with the zipper, and rummaging around the bottom of the over filled contents to finally grab onto the IPhone that still buzzed after all that.

Taking a deep breath as she watched the smiling picture that flashed across the screen, with the one name she'd many times thought had been a bad joke towards the man who owned it.

Any time before this one, in fact every time before this one she'd have scoffed and thrown the phone clear across the area she occupied, but not this time.

He'd called at the precise moment he should have.

Sliding her finger across the small green toggle on the screen, she allowed the phone to connect to the wireless call and slowly lifted the phone to her face, her lips slightly parted.

Fixating her now full silver eyes on the lights that flickered to and fro before her, Dane took another deep breath, and blatantly and boldly snarled.

"Aubrey"


End file.
